Maxioms by James Beattie
Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb
The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar!
Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb
The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar!
No jealousy their dawn of love o'ercast,
Nor blasted were their wedded days with strife;
Each season read more
No jealousy their dawn of love o'ercast,
Nor blasted were their wedded days with strife;
Each season looked delightful as it past,
To the fond husband and the faithful wife.
At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
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At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill
And nought but the nightingale's song in the grove.
Or merry swains, who quaff the nut-brown ale,
And sing enamour'd of the nut-brown maid.
Or merry swains, who quaff the nut-brown ale,
And sing enamour'd of the nut-brown maid.
From labour health, from health contentment spring;
Contentment opes the source of every joy.
From labour health, from health contentment spring;
Contentment opes the source of every joy.
